


Hope

by dreamingjewel



Category: Rivers of London - Ben Aaronovitch
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-01
Updated: 2013-11-01
Packaged: 2017-12-31 05:07:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1027587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamingjewel/pseuds/dreamingjewel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Snippet from Nightingale's POV. Pre-slash really</p>
    </blockquote>





	Hope

**Author's Note:**

> Snippet from Nightingale's POV. Pre-slash really

Thomas sat on the edge of his bed. He allowed himself the luxury of dreaming and remembering the wild days, when the sun seemed to shine brighter in the day, and nights were filled with smoke filled jazz clubs or large cinema screens filled with beautiful urbane men and furtive touches in the dark. He was never one for gropes in the lavatory, too dirty and too much like shame. He was never ashamed, but he also understood the need for discretion. The parties of men like himself held in secret, where the dancing of men together and the smell of masculine bodies and expensive colognes filled the air. Thomas laughed to himself at the thought of Peter seeing him dance. He used to love to dance and swim naked, floating on his back and looking at the stars.  
Unfortunately, now he’d played the role of the stodgy Englishman and gentleman Luddite for so long, that it began to take over. The passionate young man became the old man, whom fate had allowed to become a relatively young man once more. The shock of the new left him standing still, unmoving and unyielding to its forward thrust. He felt like a spent match, despite his fine tailoring and handsome face. All he had was the job, a job no one else could do, a job that often tested his humanity and his morality. Some days he wanted to fade from this existence, but he would not leave Molly behind. Thomas was nothing if not a man who kept his oaths and promises.  
Thomas wondered sometimes if he was capable of love. He knew he was capable of passion, but that was something different. Passion burned for days and nights, ending when the fevered mind and body cleared itself and parting was inevitable.  
How he had allowed, Peter Grant to charm his way into his personal life perturbed him greatly. Peter was supposed to be his apprentice, not his agony aunt. He found himself revealing pieces of himself and occasionally losing his natural reserve in the process. What did he find so compelling about this swaggering and occasionally annoying young man? What made Thomas want to reach for something he had no real name for?  
They had touched on the stairs last night, fingertips brushing ever so lightly. Peter had looked at him as if he had figured out a piece of a puzzle. They had gone their separate ways, but Thomas had the odd sensation that reminded him of hope.


End file.
